


Cat's Cradle

by ofsevenseas



Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-17
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofsevenseas/pseuds/ofsevenseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syuusuke sits on the floor - no, the magic carpet, and wishes that it would take him to where Yuuta must be, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat's Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Melo, who helped put the story together.

Syuusuke sits on the floor - no, the magic carpet, and wishes that it would take him to where Yuuta must be, now. It flutters hopefully, but the reality of its task is too daunting. The braided mat settles down with a thump as the wind leaves the room. This raises clouds of dust that annoy the usually unflappable boy.

Why keep something bothersome in the room anyway?

His door opens, and causes a new set of flapping. Some days this room is just impossible.

"Yuuta wants you to be proud of him. He doesn't want to be the younger brother hiding behind our family name." A pause as the door is closed. "You know this."

The last three words are spoken in a tone of vague reproach – Yumiko's never minced her words with him. But he stubbornly refuses to be comforted, to rationalize. There is a certain satisfaction to self-pity that just can't be replaced by anything else.

He turns when it's certain that Yumiko wants to come in, and that she didn't just come to check on him. People accuse him of being hard to understand, but his sister is by far the more cryptic person. Like now, there's a piece of string dangling from her fingers.

Syuusuke stares. It's been such a long time.

"Do you still remember?" Yumiko sits down on the mat, with the inherent grace she, no, they have.

"I've figured it out since then, neechan."

"Then I will leave it here for you to enjoy."

The gray circle of yarn settles around his neck, in a double loop - it's long enough to do that - and Syuusuke almost expects it to tighten, to leave him gasping and choking the way he never allows himself to show.

But then, it's Yumiko. She would never do that. Humiliating unlikable people in public has always been his forte, his way of dealing with being who he is.

Oh.

He'd been incredibly selfish tonight, because Yumiko needs to be loved too, to know how much she is loved. It bothers Syuusuke that it's never occurred to him to say it, to tell his sister in the plainest way possible.

Yumiko quietly waits for Syuusuke's aura to clear up, and cups his cheek gently with one hand. "He'll be back."

I know, Syuusuke wants to say. I know, and you know too, but I just wish...

His sister smiles in response, and smoothes his hair back. "So who's up for a little honey-mustard ramen tonight?"

\---

After a satisfying meal that almost degenerates into a food fight, Fuji finds himself drawn to that piece of worn wool. It's lying half under his schoolbooks - he'd taken it off to finish the math portion of his summer homework. He'd gotten lost in the pages of factoring and x's and y's - Yumiko had snapped him out of it with that piece of cold noodle...

But there it was, loop upon loop, left hand first, then the right, middle finger seeking a holding-place, and the left one following suit.

\---

"Let's play cat's cradle, Syuu-chan."

"What's that, neechan?"

"It's just a game, boy wonder. You're supposed to have fun."

She took his hands and deftly wrapped a stray loop of yarn around his palms, twice above each thumb. Bemused but trusting his neechan, the five-year-old sat and watched his hands dance. The end result resembled a spider's web of criss-crosses.

Yumiko chuckled at the expression on his face, both eager and puzzled - for the moment Syuusuke had forgotten the polite mask he'd cultivated under careful guidance from Mother.

\---

Fuji remembers the time he figured out that it just goes on and on in cycles that never end. And the day that he figures it out he doesn't want to tell Yumiko yet - so he goes to his parents, wanting them to be proud. He had had the strange idea that if he just proved himself worthy he'd stop having to pretend to be happy with all these little tests and just play like Yuuta was doing.

He approaches his parents' room. Long familiarity has bred habit, and he stops at the door to respectfully call out to his parents, give them a warning before knocking. But that is before he hears the conversation inside.

"Maybe we should send her away." It's mother, Syuusuke realizes. But she sounds so bitter and sharp that he almost doesn't recognize her normally soft voice.

"And what would that solve? The rumours will stay." Ever the voice of reason, Fuji's father sounds weary at having to face this when he's just returned after months of absence.

Syuusuke carefully tucks the yarn away, his hands trembling. His parents resent Yumiko-neechan. The cheerful sister that always shields him from Grandmother's wrath, the one that wheedles his mother into making his favourite dishes, the one that helps him no matter what – even if it means giving up her own chores.

They are selfish- wanting to send her away, as if it would dissolve the bonds of paper and ink and years together. They don't want to face Yumiko and remember their own shames.

"Rumours? There shouldn't be _rumours_ if you didn't go off to god knows where all the time. We married each other before she was born, didn't we?" Again, that metallic undertone in her voice. It feels to Syuusuke as if she was carving her words with blood, dried and brown.

"What do you want, Yoshiko? I refuse to send my daughter to -"

"Yes, it's all about you! Sixteen years ago it was about you, and now it still is. I tried making this work, but it obviously won't. Your secretary sees more of you than I do!" His father makes a noise of impatience, a huffing dismissal that his mother latches onto like their cat's claws in the mailman's leg.

"Oh my god. It's her! I can't believe you're coming to _me_ complaining about rumours when you've got the source _right under your nose_!" Right now, Syuusuke wants nothing more than to go back to his room, but moving now would make unnecessary and unwelcome noise.

Apparently his father has reached the limit of his tolerance. "What about our sons? Are they going to suffer because you can't shoulder the responsibility of being a good mother?"

Syuusuke can only imagine the rage that Mother must be feeling right now- and as a crash affirms his thoughts, he runs back to his room and closes the door gently. The door stays closed to their housekeeper, Yuuta, and even Yumiko-neechan.

He plays with the loop of yarn for the entire night. Thumb over thumb, and fingers interwoven.

\---

Years later, Syuusuke comes across his mother shouting at their maid, hands shaking, and realized that his mother had been drunk. He'd only sensed a strange wrongness and realized that, maybe, it wasn't the best time to bother them.

Now he understands, a little, why Yumiko always hates the holidays, where's she's ignored, the one who forced and broke a marriage between two polite, deserving souls, the one who sees, undoubtedly, what her existence has done for the people around her.

It is midnight, and Yuuta must be in bed at St. Rudolph's now. His parents have probably already split paths, Father to Hong Kong, and Mother at the other house.

Sleep does not come, so he pads quietly downstairs. Yumiko stands in the kitchen, staring slowly into the blurry blankness of the refrigerator.

He says her nothing, but leans forward to erase the distance that's always been there.


End file.
